


Raised by Dogs

by dancingmanatee



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-03-17
Updated: 2010-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-08 01:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancingmanatee/pseuds/dancingmanatee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teyrn Cousland is taking his family to this year's Summer Festival in Redcliffe. With an entire castle to explore and the adults all preoccupied, who knows what adventures await the nobleman's curious and trouble-making daughter....</p><p><i>"I meant that dogs raised me. Giant, slobbering dogs from the Anderfels. A whole pack of them, in fact." -Alistair</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red Roads

Raindrops poured from the sky, collecting into coppery brown mud on the earth below. No travelers dared to venture the treacherous roads between the lowlands and Redcliffe in such weather – not when their lives hung in the probabilities of mother nature. Would or would not the mountain break into a cascade of red water, swooping away any innocent travelers over the rocky cliffs?

Mother Nature was, if nothing else, an unpredictable lady. A torrential storm caught a poor family on the road, halfway between the safety of the lowlands and the safety of Redcliffe with no other option than to press forward. The wheels of their carriage caught the edge on a rock, and slid across the slick muddy road, coming far too close to the edge of a cliff for the riders' comfort.

“Dear Maker! How much farther until Redcliffe Castle?”

The young girl in the carriage climbed into her mother's lap, knowing she would be safe there. A sharp knock came from the small window separating the cabin from the carriage driver. Bryce Cousland pulled back the curtains at the carriage door, revealing the lights of a town not far below.

“See, Eleanor? We're almost there.”

When the carriage finally stopped at the castle front gates, the Teyrna's survival and maternal instincts momentarily overcame decorum as she practically burst out of the carriage. The gatekeepers and Arl Eamon ran to greet them, and shuffled the four Couslands into the warmth.

“Your Graces,” said the Arl with a low bow, which the Couslands returned. “I apologize for the peril of our roads. Previous rains have washed away the cliff barriers. We installed new ones at the beginning of the season only to have them washed away last week. My men are researching a safer and more permanent solution.”

“It is not your fault, Eamon,” said the Teyrn as his fatigued daughter begged to be held. “You had no way of controlling the suddenness of the storm. If there was any indication of danger, I would have held off the climb.”

“That suddenness is what saved our lives, I think,” said the Teyrna, taking her daughter into her arms. “Too gradual of a rain gives the ground more time to loosen.”

“Correct you are, your Grace. Winona, take some warm milk and hot towels up to the guest quarters. Your Graces, is there anything you need tonight?”

“I think the rain drenched through our bags so if you could hang them to dry. Besides that – warm beds and nightclothes are all that is necessary now, Eamon,” said Eleanor. “My arms are not as strong as they once were and my daughter is not as young as she once was.”

“Yes, and sleep does not come to us as easily either,” said the Arl, noticing that the girl had already fallen asleep.

Fortunately for all the Couslands, sleep found them easily that night while warmth of sunshine greeted them the next day.


	2. The Naturalness of Babies

“Pup, chew your food. No need to be choking so early in the day.” The young girl paid little attention to her father. It didn't matter much to her that the Arl, his brother, Bann Teagan, and a dozen other nobles were present at the breakfast table. All she cared about was the ordeal the night before and how it stirred up a ravenous appetite.

“Brianna sits like a lady, see?” said Eleanor, adjusting her daughter's doll to sit up properly. The little girl only slouched more into her chair, slurping at her juice.

“Honestly, child,” Eleanor quietly tutted into her daughter's ear and then pinched her arm until she sat up straight. “We are not hounds raiding the larder. Sit up, put your shoulders back, and mind your manners.”

The girl crossed her arms and gave her mother a sulky look.

“Don't you start with me or you're going to sit all day with me, practicing your penmanship.”

The thought of having to sit inside all day, working on school lessons jolted her into obedience. Just then, a feminine figure appeared in the dining room doorway with a bundle of blankets in her arms. Despite the obvious weariness and fatigue in the eyes of the pretty, young Arlessa, she smiled and displayed all the social graces of a noble hostess.

“Ah! My darling, Isolde,” said Eamon, rising from his seat to great his wife. All the men at the table rose with him. “We weren't sure if we would see you so early in the day.”

“It does me good to walk in a new attitude – and what better than the companionship of all our well-wishers? Especially with them all traveling so far to meet the new Guerrin.”

As if on cue, the bundle of blue blankets began to squirm and cry, and at once, the eggs and toast seemed less interesting for the youngest of the group. The little girl jumped out of her seat and ran to the Arlessa's side, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Evangeline! Did you not hear a single word I just said about manners?”

The young mother laughed to herself and sat down in the closest chair. “Please, Teyrna, it's warms my heart to share in such enthusiasm. Lady Evangeline, come sit by me. You can look at Connor.”

Evangeline pushed a nearby chair next to the young mother and climbed onto the seat to get a closer look. The Teyrna and others had now left their seats and were circling around Isolde and her baby.

Evangeline thought the the baby looked odd – not at all beautiful or cute. His face was all wrinkly and squished and his eyes all squinty. Why was everyone cooing and smiling and waving at him? Why were they all congratulating the Arl and Arlessa on such a perfect little boy? Connor seemed pretty useless – he just stared up at everyone with a stupid, blank expression.

Evangeline thought to herself, _'Babies liked Peek-A-Boo, right?'_ So she hid her face behind her hand and giggled “Peek-A-Boo!” as her face burst out from behind her mask. Disappointment washed over her when the baby didn't even acknowledge that she did anything, let alone laugh. He just yawned and stared some more.

“Ah, he's a little too young to play,” said one of the noble ladies. “He's too busy now looking, smelling, and listening to everything, He doesn't know what anything is yet. It's so overwhelming. He has to sleep all the time.”

“Only a month, Isolde?”

“Yes.”

The adults continued to chat about the pregnancy, the delivery, the Arl and Arlessa's first month as parents. The several children standing in the group became increasingly bored with their discussion.

“Mama,” whispered Evangeline, tugging on her mother's dress. “Can I hold the baby?”

“We named him after my father. He was so proud when we told him of his namesake.”

“Lady Isolde, my daughter has a question for you.”

“May I hold the baby?”

“Arlessa,” reminded her mother.

“Uh, may I hold the baby, Arlessa?”

“Oh, yes, of course. Go on and cross your arms like mine,” she said, putting the baby in the little girls arms. “Mind his head.”

Evangeline's heart soared looking down at the baby. Even if all he did was stare stupidly at everyone, a strange feeling gripped her chest. Excitement? Fear? Awe? All she knew is that she was couldn't breathe out of fear of hurting him. That her arms seemed stronger than they ever did with the weight of a real baby carrying them. That her heart swelled with pride in that the adults trusted her to do it on her own.

Despite her youth, she knew this was a tiny, fragile life. He was breakable, like her doll, but much harder to repair. The adults all stared on sentimentally, reminiscent of their first time holding a baby – and reminiscent of all the important babies they'd held since.

Connor suddenly began squirming and crying and Evangeline felt her blood turn cold, frozen in fear that she had hurt him or he would wiggle himself out of her arms.

“Don't worry, dear. He's all right,” said Isolde, taking her son. The baby relaxed in her arms and Evangeline couldn't help but feel disappointed that the baby didn't like her. “Fergus, would you like to try?”

The young boy glanced up at his father, searching for the affirmation that it was socially acceptable for a man to hold a baby rather than in his capability of doing so. When the Teyrn nodded, Fergus bashfully formed a cradle with his arms and held out to accept the baby. Connor sat there for a long while staring up at Fergus, content and comfortable.

“Look at that,” laughed the Teyrn. “Fergus is a natural.”

“I see a young father in him yet. A good place to be, lad. Ferelden needs some young bucks to counterbalance the hesitation of the late-blooming bachelors,” said the Arl with a edge of self-depreciating humor.

“And wars,” said another noble man.

“Ah, but what is youthful for a parent? Twenty? Twenty-five? Thirty? I hope the propensity for my children to produce grandchildren relies on more than their ease and naturalness with babies,” said Eleanor with a small laugh. “I would have to wait fifteen years or more to see a third generation Cousland in my home.”


	3. Sampson the Assassin

A full moon bathed the dark field in soft, white light. Light and shadow morphed into the familiar shapes of trees and walls, luring the unwary into false security. A vanguard of the night, poised with a dagger in hand, crept deftly through the shadows of this world – shadows most never even dreamed existed.

The rogue caught sight of the target – a man staring quietly at the moon. Unable to understand or appreciate this shadow realm, he found foolish comfort believing, for just a moment, that the dark places of this world were empty. His guard fell and the rogue rushed forward, sinking the blade between his ribs, puncturing his lung. . . .

“Haha! You're dead!” cried Evangeline, unsheathing her stick dagger from Fergus's back.

Fergus spun around, annoyed. “No way. The rules say that only death by sword dueling counts.” He crossed his arms and a slow, condescending smirk spread across his face.

Evangeline glared up at her brother, a flicker of fierceness behind in her green eyes. “You made up those rules so only you can win! Real warriors don't have rules, snot slurper. Remember Palo?”

“Uh. No.”

Evangeline jumped on a nearby crate and crouched down, readying her “dagger” for a quick strike. Her gaze locked onto Fergus, like a cat toying with her mouse. “Palo of the Hacian clan, hungry for power and vengeance, gathered an army to rise up against the Tevinter Imperium. They fought dozens of battles against all the clans, leaving hundreds slaughtered in their wake. With every man they slain, Palo's power grew until all men believed that Palo himself was a demon god sent from the Fade to destroy the Maker himself. All except one – Sampson.”

Climbing the crates, she now stood above Fergus's head, flourishing her dagger at an invisible enemy. “Sampson was the stealthiest rogue in all of Thedas and had his wife and child slaughtered at the hands of Palo's men. On the darkest and longest night of the year, he crept into Palo's bedchamber and cut the demon god's throat while he slept. With all Palo's blood spilt, the Hacian army dissolved, and the Tevinter Imperium was saved from their insurgency.”

Fergus stepped back from his sister, eying her warily. It was normal for boys to hold an experimental fascination with crude violence – magnifying ants, the echo of shattered glass, fiery explosions from tricksters at the summer festival.

Evangeline's retelling of Sampson and Palo was about as crude as a clean slice of her imaginary dagger.

The shock of her words soon faded, however. Fergus cocked a mocking eyebrow, laughing haughtily to himself. “Maker, Evangeline, you're so stupid! You've got Aldous reading you some rubbish, old fable so many times that you memorized it. You don't even know what half those words mean, let alone what the entire passage means.”

Evangeline climbed back down from the crates, stomping her feet indignantly. “Yes, I do! It means _you're _stupid and your _rules _are stupid and _I_ killed you so_ I win_.”

Just as Fergus was about to open his mouth to reaffirm how very, very wrong she was, another nobleman's twin sons appeared outside, kicking a ball back and forth to each other. “Hey, Cousland! We and some of the Redcliff squires are going into town to play a game of football against the kids there. Come on – unless you're a sissy!”

Evangeline started following the twins, but Fergus held her back. “Fine, you think you're so smart? New rule, baby sister. If your tiny, little legs can keep up _all _the way to town, you can come. Otherwise, go play with the baby. Maybe you can make a rule about him spitting up all over you.”

Fergus sprinted off towards the boys, cackling wickedly. Evangeline stood behind dejected and alone.

"Snot slurper."


	4. Flying, Orlesian Spiders

The castle grounds proved adventurous enough for the young Cousland. There were plenty of rocks to throw and puddles to jump in from the rain the day before (always making sure she held up her skirts, of course). Evangeline stumbled upon the garden shed and squirmed her way in through a window, especially proud of her cunning. The gardener came back while she was hidden under a table with a drum kit made from several pails and watering cans. The young man's slur of curse words at being unable to find said pails and watering cans nearly sent her into a fit of giggles. He eventually got so frustrated, that he stormed off and she snuck out before she was discovered.

Evangeline discovered the stables sometime later. All of the horses had been taken out for the day for the men's hunt and festival preparations. She slipped in past the stable master, who was snoozing by the door. She investigated each stall, but found nothing of any interest. Except for one stall in the corner – a mountain of crates all just small and light enough for her to move around herself. She learned very quickly that there were enough crates and the ceiling was low enough that she could climb into the rafters.

Crawling along the wood planks, she giggled with satisfaction to herself. From up there, she could see into all the stalls. If she crawled over to the small, round window, she could see far into the gardens and watch busy servants pass by: horse carriages carrying red and black banners with the Redcliffe crest, servants carrying bags of laundry, the young gardener who finally found his watering can.

Evangeline practically fell over with delight when she found a small loft. It was probably meant for storage, but was long forgotten by anyone besides spiders. Set upon a new mission to make the little alcove into her own private retreat, she ran ran back to the garden shed and stole a broom, careful to hide so nobody saw her with it. She was almost caught when the stable master was jolted by a dream and fell out of his chair, but Evangeline was too quick for him.

Getting the broom up the rafters was a challenge in itself, but she remembered a trick she learned from Fergus. It took her a few tries (she was still learning to tie knots) to tie a rope to the end of the broom, but when she did, she pulled it up to her little hiding spot. The broom's length and bristles made it safe to sweep away the dust, insect carcasses, and spiderwebs. With one last _whoosh_, the last of the grime was gone and she had enough room to dance about.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh! Get it off! Get it off! Holy mother of Andraste! Ahhhhh!”

Evangeline immediately dropped to the floor and peered over the edge. A small boy was shaking around like a madman, brushing and slapping his scalp. He spotted something on the ground and started stomping up and down. “Die, spider! Die, die, die! Next time, you won't be so quick to jump on my head, will you? Wanna know why? 'Cause you'll be dead.”

Suddenly, the stable master ran in, poised with a sword. Finding only a boy screaming for no reason whatsoever, he slapped the back of the boy's head. “What in Maker's name are you doing, lad?”

The boy pushed the man away and pointed to the ground. “Giant bloody spider jumped on me!”

“Spiders don't _jump_, lad.”

“Fine, then. It _flew_.”

“Spiders don't fly, neither.”

“Haven't you ever heard of the giant flying spiders of Orlais? How do you think the Empress managed to take over Ferelden in the first place?”

“You've been reading too much. Gordon finally found the pail so stop dawdling and fill the troughs,” yelled the stable master as he stalked away, kicking the pail at the boy. Though, Evangeline swore he was inspecting the ceiling for spiders as he left.

The boy picked up the handle for the pail and dragged it over to a faucet on the other end of the stable. Fergus sometimes yelped when she snuck up on him with her dagger, but he never had such funny reactions to spiders. Evangeline pulled her dagger out from her sash, wondering if this boy would jump and yell if she scared him again. Grasping her dagger in her mouth, she quietly crawled back to the crates and climbed down. While the boy was busy in one stall, she slipped into another one nearby and hid behind the door.

Soon he came in with a full pail, whistling to himself. Like a cat toying with her mouse, her eyes never left him and he never gave any indication if he knew she was there. Just as he passed her, she rushed forward and sank her blade into his back. The boy yelped in fright, his pail of water spilling backwards. Evangeline realized immediately she should've waited until his pail was empty. The water spilled over his shoulders and soaked both him and her through. Now aware of her presence, he furiously spun around.

“What the –?!”

“Boy! What _are_ you doing?”

“I – I just dropped the pail. I'm fine.”

“Haha, more of your flying, Orlesian spiders?”

“Just nasty stable masters who smell like horse dung and cheap whiskey,” he muttered to himself, squeezing the water out of the end of his shirt.

Evangeline picked up the pail and smiled apologetically, the ends of her hair dripping. He wretched it from her hands and stormed out of the stall. She turned around to chase after him, but found the door slammed behind him. She pulled furiously at the handle but it was locked and soft chuckle came from beyond it.

Quickly scanning her surroundings, there was nothing in the stall that would aid her escape – only an empty trough, a bale of hay, and a barred window. If she jumped high enough, though, maybe she could reach the bars on the door? With a running start, she managed to grab the bars and pull herself up. Hanging there for a minute, the boy came close by, holding a new pail of water.

“Hey! Let me out!”

“No. You got me in trouble.”

“I'm sorry. Let me out?”

“You didn't say please.”

“Please let me out?”

“No.” He laughed spitefully.

The skin of her hands stung from gripping the iron bars and she fell back to the ground. She looked down at her hands and tried to ease the redness before running and jumping back up. The boy passed by again.

“Did you drop that spider on my head?”

“No!” she said too quickly. Knowing that she was lying, he stalked away even more furious than before.

Her hands held on a little tighter this time and she tried to get a better grip on the wooden door with her shoes, but couldn't. She dropped down again and tried to find a new way to jump up – even trying to move the trough, but it was too heavy. She was completely trapped.

“I'll start screaming if you don't let me out,” she whispered through the door. “You'll get in more trouble.”

“You have an big brother or sister, don't you?”

Evangeline smiled. “Yep.”

“You're going to get into trouble for being here all by yourself and jumping up in the rafters.”

“You're going to get into trouble for locking me in the stall!”

“I bet you'll be put in timeout for being naughty.”

“You'll be put in timeout too!”

The boy walked away, his pail once again empty. Evangeline tried to jump back up and hang on the bars, but it stung her hands too much. She moved to the other side of the stall and sat there for a long while, debating between screaming for help or staying locked in the stall all day. If she screamed, she'd have to practice penmanship with her mother. If she stayed in the stall, she'd be bored out of her mind until someone found her.

Her eyes began to tear up, mostly from the harsh stinging of her hands. A little cough burst from her throat, and then a little cry before she felt herself full-on sobbing. The door opened and there stood the boy with a full pail of water. He set it down and moved closer to her.

_Perfect._

“Don't cry. I wasn't going to really keep you locked in here. I promise.”

“M-m-my mummy's going to b-b-be so mad at m-m-me!”

“I won't tell her if you don't tattle on me.”

Evangeline wiped a big tear from her face, trying to look as scared as she could muster. “Y-you promise?”

“Pinky promises neither of us tell.”

The boy held out his little finger, she intertwined it with her own, and an unbreakable allegiance was formed.


	5. In the Bag

Evangeline and the boy (she still hadn't learned his name) realized that it was highly uncomfortable to wander around in wet clothes. He led her back to his room – another loft much like she had found, but larger and in the small barn where the Mabari lived. Since Fereldens treasured their dogs, these dogs were bathed every day and taught to relieve themselves in a separate location from where they slept. This barn was much more pleasant smelling.

That didn't stop the boy from having a very large pot full of fragrant flowers to cover up the odor. Apparently, it was a trick he learned from the Lady Isolde, who used any number of flowery perfumes to “cover the stench of evil and baby vomit.” He lent her a shirt and a pair of overalls that were a bit too small on him. They were a bit too big on her, but she just rolled up the legs and they were fine.

As soon as she followed him back down the ladder, a huge slobbering dog -- half the size of the boy jumped on him and licked him with love. Evangeline scrunched her face in disgust. The dog soon turned on her, growling suspiciously, but still confused since her clothes smelled like his master.

“Petey! Calm down, this is my friend. Petey is my age in dog years and he's too young to go on the hunt.”

The dog sent Evangeline a curious stare.

“Petey say hello to – what's your name?”

“Evangeline.”

The boy blinked twice. “Uh... what?”

“Evangeline."

“Gelavine? Evalingaline?”

“_Evangeline_.”

“Vaginaline?”

“Ev-an-gel-ine.”

“Eval – Evanal – you know what, I'm just calling you Eva.”

“Okay. What's your name?”

The boy scratched the back of his head and bounced on his feet nervously. “Everyone just calls me Rabbit so I guess you can too.”

“That's a funny name. You don't look very cute and fluffy.”

“Oh ho! Well, you haven't seen me when I wear my bunny costume.”

“_Really?_ I definitely want to see it.”

“Well, we got rid of it. Petey here thought I was a real rabbit. Surprised I didn't taste all that good, weren't you, boy?”

Petey gave a sad whine.

Suddenly, Rabbit's stomach rumbled loudly. His whole face – ears and all – blushed with embarrassment. Petey barked and Evangeline burst out laughing. She had never seen someone's face go so red before. Tomato suddenly seemed a better nickname.

“I, uh, guess I didn't eat enough turnips this morning. You hungry?”

“A little.”

“Cookie might give us some scraps or we could go out to the garden,” he said as they started walking back that way.

"Vegetables? Gross." A sudden idea popped into her mind. “How about a larder?”

Rabbit grabbed his chest in dramatic, feign shock. “My Lady! That cannot be a serious question. This castle belongs to the Arl of Redcliffe. What kind of nobleman has no larder?”

“I'm the master of sneaking into larders,” she said boastfully.

“I dunno, the Arl has a lot of people working right now since there are so many guests.”

“One time my mummy and daddy had a ball with over a hundred guests. Guess who stole all the raspberries for the sorbet and was never caught?”

Rabbit's jaw dropped. “No. Way.”

“Yes way. It's easier with more people. Everyone's too busy to notice you.”

Rabbit put his arm around Evangeline's shoulders. “I think I found my new best friend.”

Sneaking through the castle with Rabbit's knowledge of all the servant's areas was a snap. Every so often an adult would notice them, but only one ever said anything. Rabbit came up with a quick lie about needing to deliver a message to someone-or-other and they were on their way. Another servant yelled about a dog being in the castle, but were satisfied as soon as the three left that particular room. Though, itt was much more fun to pretend they were assassins or spies and then hide and wait until nobody was around. Eva quickly learned that Rabbit wasn't a very good hider.

Unfortunately, the kitchen was _full _of servants preparing lunch, dinner, and other foodstuffs for the week. Evangeline and Rabbit peeked inside as three or four servants rushed out with plates of food or cooking utensils in their arms. The cook yelled something about everyone needing to move to another part of the castle because there wasn't enough room, and Evangeline knew this was their chance.

“Petey, go knock down one of those servants. Someone with a lot of stuff in their hands, okay?”

The dog gave a low whine.

“I'll get you some roast if you do,” said Rabbit and the dog bounded off, licking his chops.

Grabbing Rabbit by the arm, Evangeline slipped through the door and ducked behind some nearby flour sacks. Luckily, Cookie and the other servants were too preoccupied with their tasks to discover them. Rabbit tapped on Eva's shoulder and pointed to the door in the corner. She nodded and watched Cookie.

“Rabbit, when I snap my fingers, we're going to run from where we are now, to behind those crates over there.” He nodded.

Just then, a few servants went into the larder and Evangeline signaled for them to move. Once they settled into their new hiding place and the servants emerged, a woman, her front all covered in gravy and mashed potatoes and some kind of purple sauce dripping from her hair, burst through the kitchen door.

“Cookie! Some foul dog has made a complete mess out in the hallway. Dinner is ruined!”

“How in the – Don't just stand there, you fools! Let's go.”

The three servants and the cook ran out to inspect the mess, leaving the kitchen completely empty.

“That worked too well," said Evangeline with disappointment as they emerged from behind the crates.

"Not for Petey. He is going to get in so much trouble for this," said Rabbit, shaking his head. "It's a good thing he likes gravy and baths.”

The two slipped into the larder, and Evangeline grabbed an empty four sack by the door. “Quick, put all you want in here. We'll take it back to your room and eat it there.”

Evangeline's hands immediately went for the jar of honey, cookies, sausages, apples, pears, pecans, jams, bread, cinnamon, wine, caramel, and almond butter. When she turned around, Rabbit was struggling to get a grip on a wheel of gourmet cheese twice as big as his head and probably heavier than Petey.

“We can fit this in the bag, right?”


End file.
